


How to feel alive

by perthtalay



Category: Our Skyy (TV) RPF, นักเรียนลับ บัญชีดำ | Blacklist (TV 2019) RPF, อาตี๋ของผม | 'Cause You're My Boy (TV) RPF, เพราะเราคู่กัน | 2gether: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Fights, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perthtalay/pseuds/perthtalay
Summary: Frank didn't know why he kept coming to Drake after every fight he got into. Of course, Drake was his best friend, but there was something more to it.Maybe it had something to do with Drake being a med student, maybe with him being Frank's safe space.Or maybe with the warm feeling in his eyes that Frank was yet to discover what meant.
Relationships: Drake Sattabut Laedeke/Frank Thanatsaran Samthonglai
Kudos: 40





	How to feel alive

Frank liked thinking that when he was walking on a street with Drake, they would never get attacked. If someone didn't know them, they would get scared simply by Drake's looks – he was tall, muscular and his combat boots wouldn't be a nice thing to get kicked with. However, if someone knew them, they would also know that Frank, despite his innocent looks, could beat the shit out of them without breaking a sweat.

But Drake didn't like it when Frank fought with people. Every time Frank went to him to help him treat his wounds, he would wear an expression that maybe another person would read as indifferent, but Frank knew better.

Drake was the silent type when he was mad, he wouldn't yell or throw things. Instead, he had a way of looking at someone like he was really disappointed in them that made everyone feel bad immediately, and Frank knew this face well enough when he was knocking on his door again with head spinning and a blunt pain spreading from his abdomen to his back.

He looked at Drake, but then immediately averted his gaze, embarrassed. Drake just sighed.

“I need help again,” Frank mumbled, examining his shoes.

“I can see that,” Drake answered and only someone who knew him for as long as Frank did could notice the exasperation and anger behind the neutral tone.

Drake stepped aside, which Frank knew meant that he was welcome to go inside. He sat down on Drake's bed and watched him prepare first aid kit and a bowl of water. He knew this procedure too well – first, wash the blood off his skin, then apply ointment to bruises and put on bandaids wherever needed. One time Drake even sew one of his wounds, but neither of them have ever talked about that day.

“I'm so glad to have a doctor as a friend,” Frank tried joking, but a wound in the corner of his mouth stopped him from smiling.

“I'm not even a doctor yet and I still need to put up with some idiots who can't keep out of fights,” Drake snapped, standing up from his place next to Frank when he finished patching him up for what felt like the hundredth time. “Give me the sweatshirt, I'll take care of it,” he sighed, pointing at the pastel pink material covering Frank's chest. “You could at least start wearing some clothes that would be easier to wash the blood off of. You have no idea how tough it is to wash it off of all your pinks and baby blues.”

Frank grinned, ignoring the stinging in the corner of his mouth, and took off the sweatshirt. “That's why I have a servant to do it. Can I borrow something to wear?”

“Aren't you staying over this time?” Drake yelled from the bathroom.

“I thought you wouldn't want me around.” Frank's voice was teasing, but Drake knew that he was serious. “You're mad at me.”

“You had never cared much about it.”

“You had never been this mad before.”

Drake threw the wet sweatshirt at Frank along with a clean white tee that was maybe only a little too big for him. “I thought you said you would stop getting into fights.”

Frank knew this tone. Drake wasn't just stating facts, he was trying to explain why he was feeling what he was feeling. He never said outwardly what was bothering him.

Frank laid down, chest still naked and the t-shirt he was supposed to wear next to him. He didn't want to look at Drake in fear of seeing something too close to disappointment in his eyes.

“And I haven't punched anyone in the last three weeks.” He tried keeping his carefree tone, but he also knew that Drake wouldn't fall for it. He always could read Frank as easily as a book.

“Up until today.”

“Up until today,” Frank repeated, not sure how to reply. There was something that he dreaded in Drake's voice and his mind, instead of working on words to say, was stressing over countless  _ what if' _ s. “I swear I'm trying,” he finally choked out, his throat weirdly tight.

“I know you are,” Drake sighed like he didn't mean it. He plopped down next to Frank. “Get dressed and go to sleep, I have classes in the morning and you need to go with me, my mom took the spare key last time she visited me.”

Frank closed his eyes for a moment before doing what Drake asked him to. He didn't know why he kept coming to him after every fight he got into. Of course, Drake was his best friend, but every time it just ended in him getting mad and never expressing it. Sometimes Frank just wished he would snap at him and yell out all the thoughts that were on his mind. But Drake wasn't the type to scream in anger.

Maybe Frank wouldn't have kept coming back if not for the fact that the last time he had tried to take care of himself after a fight, he ended up in the hospital because of infected wounds. Maybe it had nothing to do with Drake being a med student, but Frank's safe space, something he needed every time his guts were hurting from all the punches he received and his knuckles from all the ones he threw.

So Frank just cuddled into Drake's back like he always did when he was sure he was already asleep.

Maybe if he knew Drake was never asleep… 

_ “I promise I'll stop getting into fights.” _

… maybe he wouldn't have said that so carelessly.

Another month has passed and Drake was getting used to seeing Frank without any cuts on his face and bruises all over his body. He probably should have known better.

It was already past midnight when Drake finished his homework and suddenly paid attention to the gut feeling that's been bugging him for the last few hours. But then a knock on his door made his stomach turn in the most horrifying way and something inside him already knew that he would find Frank behind it.

His overalls were ripped, cut and stained with blood, the colourful t-shirt under them was falling off one of his shoulders. What was worse though was the state of his face. Drake has never seen Frank beaten up this badly. He couldn't help but imagine a hundred scenarios that led to this moment.

Frank stumbled inside, limping a little, and closed the door behind him, resting then against it.

Drake looked at him once again and turned around. There was something inside his guts that kept twisting, leaving his fists squeezed and jaw trembling.

“I'm sorry.” Barely a hoarse whisper.

“You're  _ sorry, _ ” Drake hissed, his chest heavy with the feeling that went through his whole body. “You  _ promised _ , Frank! You promised not to get into any fight again!”

Frank flinched, but Drake couldn't see it, his back still turned to the other boy. “How do you– I never wanted to…” he muttered, but Drake's scream interrupted him again.

“Yeah? So why the fuck did you get beaten up like this?”

His voice was vicious and loud, and Frank didn't know if he was seriously angered or worried anymore. All he knew was that he was never this terrified of his best friend. Still, he put on his arrogant mask, thinking that maybe if he annoyed Drake even more, he would punch him too and Frank would finally pass out, not having to deal with all this pain.

“Why do you care this much?” he grunted, lifting himself up a little on the leg that didn't hurt as much. “Why the fuck do you care, Drake!” It wasn't a question this time.

He really never knew why Drake cared about him getting into fights to that extent. Sometimes he wondered if he only had enough of taking care of his wounds and bruises, sometimes he was sure there was something Drake wasn't telling him. He had a feeling the look in Drake's eyes should tell him something, but he never was good at reading emotions this warm.

“You never answered my question,” Drake replied in cold tone that didn't quite match his teary eyes and trembling hands.

Frank looked at Drake's back quickly going up and down. He was making wishes in the mess that his mind was in that moment for Drake not being really this mad, for maybe there being other feelings than infuriation that made him like this, so seemingly emotionless and plain cold. Frank didn't know this person. Drake was always someone he associated with the warmth of summer's evening's sunshine and the livelihood of a field full of flowers; he was the cozy feeling of cuddling, he was the safe feeling of home, he was soft smiles and flustered cheeks. But now Frank felt like his eyes would shoot daggers if he turned around and his fists were barely holding back from punching him.

Still, he couldn't stay quiet, he needed to somehow explain himself, even though the threat of Drake becoming even more angered was terrifying him.

“What, you just wanted me to listen to them saying that you're whoring around with every professor to get grades this good?! You wanted me to listen to them laughing at you, calling you a talentless slut, good only for looks and other disgusting slurs?! Do you think I could stand there and just listen to them insulting you like you're not the most hardworking and talented person I know?!”

“Yes!” Drake turned around and Frank looked into his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he saw the unnamed feeling in them he already knew. “I don't care about what they were calling me, I'm used to it, but you promised me– you said you wouldn't get into any fights again! Can't you really stand not being punched for this long? Do you really need to be in constant pain to feel alive?”

Frank was silent for what felt too long for both of them. He slowly let his body slump down the door, wobbling with every move, tears filling up his eyes. “What?” he finally whispered.

Drake plopped down on the floor too, resting his back against the bed and head falling back to look at the ceiling. “You think I don't see how your eyes light up every time you wince in pain?” This time his voice was calm and collected again. “You're always showing off your new scars to the younger guys in your faculty like it's something to be proud of. Whenever you're stressed you're pressing that old scar on your hip that you still claim you don't know why isn't healing properly and when you're bored you're squeezing your new wounds until they bleed. I've known you for fifteen years, Frank, I notice things like this.”

Frank was speechless again. His mind was trying to figure out how Drake could notice all those little things when he himself didn't even pay attention to them, but his eyes were too busy trying to catch Drake's gaze. But there was this part of him that was thinking why Drake acted like he knew Frank better than Frank himself. His fists trembled.

“Can't you just find something else to make you feel alive?” Drake sighed.

“Why do you care this much?” he asked again in an emotionless tone, so flatly that it made Drake's head shoot up.

He looked at Frank and with fear realised that he didn't know the feelings that clouded his stare. Frank was always cocky and acted like he didn't care, but his eyes always let the truth shine through all the feelings that were directed at Drake in his studious gazes. This time Drake felt like all of them got suddenly removed, leaving a cold, empty space that terrified him.

“You're my best friend,” he muttered under his breath, not sure how to react. He knew he went overboard with the yelling, but he thought they were already past the phase of letting the anger speak instead of them.

_ Best friend.  _ The phrase always horrified Frank, knowing he wished for something more, though he still couldn't articulate the thought even to himself without needing to escape.

“Best friend,” he scoffed anyways, letting the fear speak. He didn't know if he was more terrified of Drake realising what he was feeling before he could admit it to himself, or him not understanding what he meant.

“What?” Drake's tone voiced the confusion that was conveyed by his furrowed eyebrows too.

“It's always a  _ best friend _ ,” he snickered. He knew he was almost declaring his feelings, but how could he stop himself if he didn't even know what the feelings were.

Drake froze in place, unable to move. His chest wanted to scream and yell at Frank again, shake him and make him realise how much he had hurt Drake. But his head was still thinking clearly, even if his stare was clouded by tears.

“Do you mean you  _ don't _ want to be my best friend?” Drake asked in a tone that was meant to convince Frank that he's not going to be hurt by whatever he was about to say, but his jaw was trembling like he was close to sobbing and he wasn't able to stop it. “Frank?”

“That's right! I don't want to be your best friend!”

He wasn't lying. He didn't want to be  _ just _ Drake's best friend. But with the  _ just  _ left out, he couldn't help but feel like he fucked up. It didn't sound like he wanted it to at all.

Drake closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to calm his tight throat down before he sobbed out loud. “Get out.” That was all he could whisper without bursting into tears in front of someone who just made his chest hurt like his heart was really broken.

“Wait– that's not what I–”

“ _ Get out! _ ”

The next day Frank came up to Drake before his classes, but was ignored. He shrugged, thinking that Drake needed more time. It wasn't that surprising.

Next week he started worrying. Drake still wasn't talking to him, turning away and saying something to Ohm who always was by his side lately every time Frank tried to greet him.

A month later he stopped trying. One day he accidentally passed by the table where Drake was sitting with Ohm and First, two of his friends from the same faculty, and turned away, wishing to himself he didn't notice Frank. But Drake did, as always.

A few days later, when Drake went into his apartment, he found a note pushed through the space under his door.

_ Drake, _

_ We haven't talked in what feels like forever and, honestly, I know it's only my fault. Maybe if I told you right away what I meant, it wouldn't have gotten to the point where I'm too scared to face you. In my defense, if I told you back then I wouldn't really understand what I was saying. Now I do, but it's been so long and I wish you'd still want to see me. I don't know if you miss me as much as I miss you. I hope you do. _

_ The thing is, what I said wasn't that much of a lie. To be honest, if I said one sentence more, it wouldn't have hurt you this much, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke my promise that I didn't even know you heard, I'm sorry I made it when I thought you were asleep because I was too scared to say it to your face, I'm sorry I hurt you so many times, I'm sorry I never had the courage to say what was on my mind and acted like I never felt anything. _

_ You know, I talked to Ohm and he made me realise two things. First, you were right. I needed to fight someone all the time to feel alive. I needed to feel the adrenaline rush, I needed the pain that reminded me I was alive and human. Funny, how you realised that before me. You always knew me better than I knew myself, even if I never liked to admit it to myself. _

_ You asked me if I couldn't find something else that would make me feel alive. I found it. But I need to see you to tell you what it is. Please don't hate me if you won't be satisfied with what I'm going to tell you. _

_ Meet me at 8 under your condo if you're willing to listen to me. I'll be waiting anyways. _

_ Frank. _

It was almost 9 when Drake walked out of the building.

He was trembling with anxiety, but even for a moment he hadn't contemplated not going. It would be a lie if he said he didn't miss Frank, after all he was the one who he had considered a best friend for the last fifteen years. But now he didn't know what was between them and the thought was even more terrifying as he was looking at Frank across the parking lot.

Shortly after Frank noticed him and ran towards him like nothing had changed.

“Drake.” He was out breath.

“Thought you wanted to tell me something,” Drake said, trying to keep his composure and not let Frank see how tough it was for him to stop himself from embracing him and hiding away from the world in the crook of his neck.

“Right.” The smile disappeared from his face. “I'm sorry for what I've said. I really am.” Frank truly didn't know what else to say.

Drake looked deep into his eyes to search for any trace of insincerity, but what he found were tears welling up slowly. He almost took a step back in shock. He never saw Frank crying.

“I want you to know something before I say anything more,” he said, his voice shy, but steady. “That day, I never punched anyone. I just tried defending you, but they beat me up. I should have said it long ago. It doesn't change the fact that I got into a fight anyways, but I swear that wasn't my intention.”

Drake's gaze softened. He thought back to that day and realised that he indeed didn't see any wounds on Frank's knuckles like he always did after every fight.

“What I said later…” Even though Frank rehearsed what he was going to say a million times, he still hesitated. He knew that saying it out loud was the only was to be allowed to at least hope for getting Drake back, but hell would freeze over before he stopped feeling nervous. “I never meant it in the way it sounded, I swear! It's just– I just always wished you were more,” he added quietly.

“Are you kidding me?” Drake asked, his eyes widened.

“Just let me finish…” Frank mumbled quickly, blinking his tears away. He was so stupid to think that Drake could like him back. “You asked if I couldn't find something else that would make me feel alive. I found it,” he sighed. “But now I'm not sure if it's gonna work.”

“Why?”

Drake looked as Frank's shy smile grew bigger, his stare directed at the ground, but still stealing quick glances at Drake. He couldn't help but smirk a little. He felt like they were back in middle school and Frank was trying to ask him for help with biology homework, but now they were almost five years older and had different problems.

Sometimes he caught himself missing the times when his biggest issue was writing an essay on time and hiding the crush he had on his best friend. But now he needed to hide something bigger.

Frank mumbled something that Drake didn't understand and stepped closer to him, making both of their faces flush red. He only stopped when their noses were almost touching, breaths mixing in the small space between them. 

“Can I?” he asked, not exactly sure which answer he feared more.

Drake stayed quiet for a moment too long, making Frank want to step back and run away immediately, but before he was able to move away, Drake quickly pecked his lips.

“Feeling alive already?” Drake whispered against Frank's parted lips, recognising his movements as a slowly forming smile.

“A bit,” Frank murmured in answer as he threw his arms around Drake's neck.

“You need a therapist.” Drake wasn't sure whether to pull away or wrap his hands on Frank's waist and kiss him again. He decided not to do anything, maybe looking a bit stiff, just standing in his place, feeling his eyes hurt a little from staring at Frank from such small distance.

“I know.” Frank put their foreheads together. “Kiss me again?”

“You seriously need help.”

But he still kissed Frank again until they couldn't keep going because of the smiles that painted their faces.


End file.
